Post by Angel Blake on Feb 21, 2018 23:52:45 GMT
”Everyone calls me a monster…”
Despite the unseasonably warm weather in Litchfield Hills, his cold words send a tingle running down your spine.
”They see me as I am as opposed to who I am…”
Your eyes frantically search for the source but all around you are trees reaching for Heaven.
”They misinterpret my actions as horrorsm never even considering that I may be acting on behalf of the greater good…”
Suddenly you see in the distance a building, almost as if it appeared out of nowhere.
”How could one who looks as I look, who acts as I act be anything other than a monster?”
You begin to run as fast as you can toward the building, his words whispering in your ear as if he is just behind you.
”But what if the monster was you?”
You trip but manage to keep upright almost as if someone kept you from falling.
”You who allow all the horrors in this world. You who act with empty words as children die all around you. You who do nothing in the face of true evil. What if you are the monster?”
The building never seems to get closer as you run even faster.
”And all I am trying to do is rid the world of you?”
You stop, exhausted, out of breath. You look toward the building again, it is so close but so far away.
”Does that make me a monster as well? Am I any more or less righteous than your political heroes who turn tragedies into opportunities? Am I more monstrous because I chose to face threats head on? Are my actions somehow more deplorable simply because I am unafraid to get my hands dirty to accomplish my goals?”
A cold hand rests itself on your back but no one is there.
”I did not make the world this way. You did. I gave humankind every opportunity to make this world Eden, all of you have chosen to make it Hell. That was not me. I did not bring evil into this world. I did not create horror. I use them as tools to teach but you refuse to learn. Instead of heeding my words over the years all of you have chosen to ignore me. Fight me…”
“The monster is you.”
“And I have to kill the monster.”
“I have to put an end to the heartache you cause with your inaction. I have to stand up and show this world what it could be if only it would come together. I have to put an end to the age of motionless heroes who stand for empty causes. I have to be the one you all believe in again. I have to lead by example. If my example makes me a monster as well, then so be it.”
“I do not hide from who I am.”
“Like you, Andrew Jacobsen.”
Your resolve returns as you stand up straight and begin running again, this time the building gets closer.
”You are a man defined by his inaction. A hero to the hopeless. You do not use the skills I have gifted with to fight for a better tomorrow. You simply exist in the pit and watch the fires rise. You watch as those who cheer you take up arms against their brothers and sisters. You watch as those who follow you take knives to their throats. You watch as those who believe in you give in to their hatred and depression.”
“You watch as the body count rises and do NOTHING!”
“They call you a hero. A White Knight. But to me you are more horrific than any demon, any devil, any dictator. You may not commit the genocide but you do nothing to stop it. You do nothing as the world sinks ever lower. You do nothing with pride and dignity and call yourself a HERO!?”
“No, my son. You are not righteous. You are not heroic. You are not what you believe yourself to be. Everything you are is a lie. A fallacy. You live in a fantasy land where strong words mean something and action means nothing.”
“I am a being of action.”
“I refuse to let the atrocities continue. I refuse to watch from the sidelines as my children kill each other. I refuse to let the monsters run wild.”
The building continues to get closer as you run through the wilderness, a guiding hand on your shoulder.
”I must stop you before it is too late for all of them…”
You reach the steps of what you can now see is an old stone church, panting, gasping for breath.
”I am sorry…”
“I do not have another way to return you to where you belong. You must take the longer path. The more painful payh. You must experience all the horrors you have allowed to exist. When it is over I will come find you. I will guide you…”
“Home…”
“I am truly sorry, my son. It brings me no pleasure to cause you pain. I will not smile as I tear your flesh or break your bones. I will not enjoy crippling you. I regret the course of action I must take but there is no one to blame for this but yourself, my son…”
“Look in the mirror…”
“The monster is you…”
Step by step you approach the door of the old church, it’s wooden doors slowly rotting from the dampness of the forest. You reach out with a pale hand and pull on the handle.
”I am you.”
The hinges scream from the decades of rust as you pull the door open revealing him. You. The man known as God. Angel Blake.
”We are the monster…”
He reaches out for you, for himself, wrapping himself around you like a cold blanket.
”I must kill the monster…”
A burning sensation suddenly erupts in your gut as he cradles your head.
”You are my child. I do not want to harm you. I want to help you. I want to help all of them. It is all I have ever wanted. Which is why I have to kill the monster. I care for you, my son, I love you. You were once the best of all my children. The shining beacon…”
“But you did this…”
The forest begins to melt around you. Bullets whiz by your head. Children scream. Bombs explode. There are bodies everywhere.
”This is what a monster does…”
He pulls the knife from your gut allowing you to fall into the dirt. The screaming gets louder but his words are clear.
”You show me that though I try I am like you. Always like you. A monster. And so through horror I will cleanse this world. Through terror I will free those who believe. Through blood shed I will wash away the many sins you have caused…”
“I am sorry…”
“But you brought this on yourself.”
The world around you begins to fade as your very life slips away. He cradles you on his lap, stroking your head. The sadness in his pale painted face is evident. He hates himself for what he had to do but this is what he had to do.
”I love you, my son…”
Your eyes close, the world is gone but as you slip into the void you feel his hand on your shoulder again. No longer is his touch cold. Hard. He feels as warm as the sun. His embrace is a relief, an exquisite surprise. Finally you are free of the nightmare that is life.
Your eyes open and the old church is now a palace of unmatched beauty. His face is no longer pale but full of color. He welcomes you with open arms to paradise. He takes your hand in his and pulls you up and now you realize what it is that he has been fighting for and you know…
It was worth it.
God will save us all, you think to yourself as he leads you to a dining room with a never ending table covered in every food you can imagine. He seats you at the head of the table and everyone you have ever known, loved and lost is there to greet you as they take part in the bountiful feast God has provided.
He stands proudly behind you, his hands on your shoulders as you count your blessings that he still welcomed you into his home.
”Though your life is over, Andrew Jacobsen, you will live forever in the kingdom of God…”
Gently he massages your shoulders, loosening your muscles from carrying the weight of your inaction in life.
“I forgive you for you knew not what you were…”
“Or what I could be.”
Monsters are real, you thought but God will save us…
Despite the unseasonably warm weather in Litchfield Hills, his cold words send a tingle running down your spine.
”They see me as I am as opposed to who I am…”
Your eyes frantically search for the source but all around you are trees reaching for Heaven.
”They misinterpret my actions as horrorsm never even considering that I may be acting on behalf of the greater good…”
Suddenly you see in the distance a building, almost as if it appeared out of nowhere.
”How could one who looks as I look, who acts as I act be anything other than a monster?”
You begin to run as fast as you can toward the building, his words whispering in your ear as if he is just behind you.
”But what if the monster was you?”
You trip but manage to keep upright almost as if someone kept you from falling.
”You who allow all the horrors in this world. You who act with empty words as children die all around you. You who do nothing in the face of true evil. What if you are the monster?”
The building never seems to get closer as you run even faster.
”And all I am trying to do is rid the world of you?”
You stop, exhausted, out of breath. You look toward the building again, it is so close but so far away.
”Does that make me a monster as well? Am I any more or less righteous than your political heroes who turn tragedies into opportunities? Am I more monstrous because I chose to face threats head on? Are my actions somehow more deplorable simply because I am unafraid to get my hands dirty to accomplish my goals?”
A cold hand rests itself on your back but no one is there.
”I did not make the world this way. You did. I gave humankind every opportunity to make this world Eden, all of you have chosen to make it Hell. That was not me. I did not bring evil into this world. I did not create horror. I use them as tools to teach but you refuse to learn. Instead of heeding my words over the years all of you have chosen to ignore me. Fight me…”
“The monster is you.”
“And I have to kill the monster.”
“I have to put an end to the heartache you cause with your inaction. I have to stand up and show this world what it could be if only it would come together. I have to put an end to the age of motionless heroes who stand for empty causes. I have to be the one you all believe in again. I have to lead by example. If my example makes me a monster as well, then so be it.”
“I do not hide from who I am.”
“Like you, Andrew Jacobsen.”
Your resolve returns as you stand up straight and begin running again, this time the building gets closer.
”You are a man defined by his inaction. A hero to the hopeless. You do not use the skills I have gifted with to fight for a better tomorrow. You simply exist in the pit and watch the fires rise. You watch as those who cheer you take up arms against their brothers and sisters. You watch as those who follow you take knives to their throats. You watch as those who believe in you give in to their hatred and depression.”
“You watch as the body count rises and do NOTHING!”
“They call you a hero. A White Knight. But to me you are more horrific than any demon, any devil, any dictator. You may not commit the genocide but you do nothing to stop it. You do nothing as the world sinks ever lower. You do nothing with pride and dignity and call yourself a HERO!?”
“No, my son. You are not righteous. You are not heroic. You are not what you believe yourself to be. Everything you are is a lie. A fallacy. You live in a fantasy land where strong words mean something and action means nothing.”
“I am a being of action.”
“I refuse to let the atrocities continue. I refuse to watch from the sidelines as my children kill each other. I refuse to let the monsters run wild.”
The building continues to get closer as you run through the wilderness, a guiding hand on your shoulder.
”I must stop you before it is too late for all of them…”
You reach the steps of what you can now see is an old stone church, panting, gasping for breath.
”I am sorry…”
“I do not have another way to return you to where you belong. You must take the longer path. The more painful payh. You must experience all the horrors you have allowed to exist. When it is over I will come find you. I will guide you…”
“Home…”
“I am truly sorry, my son. It brings me no pleasure to cause you pain. I will not smile as I tear your flesh or break your bones. I will not enjoy crippling you. I regret the course of action I must take but there is no one to blame for this but yourself, my son…”
“Look in the mirror…”
“The monster is you…”
Step by step you approach the door of the old church, it’s wooden doors slowly rotting from the dampness of the forest. You reach out with a pale hand and pull on the handle.
”I am you.”
The hinges scream from the decades of rust as you pull the door open revealing him. You. The man known as God. Angel Blake.
”We are the monster…”
He reaches out for you, for himself, wrapping himself around you like a cold blanket.
”I must kill the monster…”
A burning sensation suddenly erupts in your gut as he cradles your head.
”You are my child. I do not want to harm you. I want to help you. I want to help all of them. It is all I have ever wanted. Which is why I have to kill the monster. I care for you, my son, I love you. You were once the best of all my children. The shining beacon…”
“But you did this…”
The forest begins to melt around you. Bullets whiz by your head. Children scream. Bombs explode. There are bodies everywhere.
”This is what a monster does…”
He pulls the knife from your gut allowing you to fall into the dirt. The screaming gets louder but his words are clear.
”You show me that though I try I am like you. Always like you. A monster. And so through horror I will cleanse this world. Through terror I will free those who believe. Through blood shed I will wash away the many sins you have caused…”
“I am sorry…”
“But you brought this on yourself.”
The world around you begins to fade as your very life slips away. He cradles you on his lap, stroking your head. The sadness in his pale painted face is evident. He hates himself for what he had to do but this is what he had to do.
”I love you, my son…”
Your eyes close, the world is gone but as you slip into the void you feel his hand on your shoulder again. No longer is his touch cold. Hard. He feels as warm as the sun. His embrace is a relief, an exquisite surprise. Finally you are free of the nightmare that is life.
Your eyes open and the old church is now a palace of unmatched beauty. His face is no longer pale but full of color. He welcomes you with open arms to paradise. He takes your hand in his and pulls you up and now you realize what it is that he has been fighting for and you know…
It was worth it.
God will save us all, you think to yourself as he leads you to a dining room with a never ending table covered in every food you can imagine. He seats you at the head of the table and everyone you have ever known, loved and lost is there to greet you as they take part in the bountiful feast God has provided.
He stands proudly behind you, his hands on your shoulders as you count your blessings that he still welcomed you into his home.
”Though your life is over, Andrew Jacobsen, you will live forever in the kingdom of God…”
Gently he massages your shoulders, loosening your muscles from carrying the weight of your inaction in life.
“I forgive you for you knew not what you were…”
“Or what I could be.”
Monsters are real, you thought but God will save us…
Well howdy there pardner.